Becoming Bones
by bebeschtroumph
Summary: So, basically I hated the 100th episode, and how it just got so many things just plain old wrong about the pilot. This story is my way of making that better. This is how Booth and Bones met, and their fight that led to them not speaking/working together.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** So this is going to be an epic author's note, please bear with me. I'm writing this story because I absolutely hated the 100th episode, and much of the 5th season. I don't particularly care how they explained the whole Booth and Brennan's first case thing. I care about how many things they just got plain old wrong. I guess I should explain that first season is probably my favorite Bones, with the pilot being my favorite episode overall. I hate how the 100th got so many things wrong. For starters, Booth explains to Cullen that "On the last case we worked on, she gave me a description of the murder weapon and the murderer, but I didn't give it much credence." Cullen asks, "Why not?" and Booth replies "Because she did it by looking at the autopsy x-rays." This to me has always said that they worked more than one case together before everything blew up, plus, well, they left out the whole x-ray thing in the 100th. Anyway, This story is about writing those wrongs, and explaining how Booth and Brennan got to the point they got to in the pilot. It won't be about them being in love or getting together (though honestly, if season six doesn't have them at least start seeing each other, I'm going to stop watching the show). There won't be spoilers. I am going to make a point of explaining away inconsistencies I've picked up.

I should also explain that I'm a scientist. I hate it when scientists are portrayed as basically being either sociopaths or autistic. I'm sticking to the first season characterizations, so things might seem a bit OOC for season five. I'm not a forensic anthropologist, I'm a physicist. So any forensics mistakes will be my own and I will leave things intentionally vague so as to not be completely idiotic. If I get physics stuff wrong, well, then I'm just stupid. But Brennan was dating a physicist before she ran off to Guatemala, so I might break out some physics. Anyway, feel free to kvetch via reviews about what the Bones writers got wrong or just missed the boat on (besides getting Booth and Brennan to make sweet, sweet love), and maybe it'll make its way into this story.

* * *

Dr. Temperance Brennan sat at her desk, staring at her computer screen. With a sigh she stretched, then opened a new word document.

She should have gone home a few hours ago, she'd finished her reports for the CIA at around 4:30, and sent them off with a courier. She had finished the initial analysis on a new skeleton out of bone storage and had typed up her initial analysis. The lab was empty, quiet, and she liked being here on her own, with no distractions.

So, rather than go home to her equally silent apartment, or call Peter and see if he wanted to get dinner and maybe come home with her for a bit of recreation, she started writing. It was an old habit, one she'd taken up when she'd only had herself as entertainment, and something she'd clung to desperately throughout her time in foster care.

She stared at the words as they appeared on the screen, smiling to herself as she wrote. Maybe she did need to call Peter for some recreation. Of course the man she was writing about was nothing like Peter. He wasn't like anyone Tempe knew.

She'd been working on this story in fits and starts for a few months now, and had nearly two hundred pages completed. She was working on the personal side of the story now, since she'd finished the actual plot. That had been the easy part, the science, the case. She struggled with the personal interactions, since social interactions never came easily for her. Of course, Kathy was everything she wasn't, gregarious, funny, easy going. Andy too, was everything she wanted in a partner, and nothing like the arrogant imbeciles she was forced to work with at the FBI. Andy accepted Kathy as an intelligent, capable woman. He was her partner, something Tempe was never seen as by whichever FBI agent she was managing to piss off at the moment.

The cases for the CIA were easier to deal with, since they always involved bodies from abroad. She accepted that she couldn't be involved in the field work when the body came from a covert mission that, according to the government "hadn't happened." Bodies from DC were another story. It was incredibly irritating to have some improperly trained forensic tech drop a body on her table after butchering the collection process. Usually she only got to even see the remains after they'd been over the body already and it was impossible for her to know what evidence had been ruined or how they'd mishandled the bones. Of course, none of the agents assigned to these cases would even think of letting her out of the lab, usually not even wanting her or her team at the crime scene.

Dr. Goodman, of course, was only too happy for the Medico-Legal lab to be involved in any government investigation. He wanted to take every opportunity to remind the government why the Jeffersonian received so much in government funding. She sighed and saved her file. Maybe she'd show the story, well, book if she was honest with herself, to Angela once she put the whole thing together.

She stretched again and sifted through her email inbox. She had a request from Dr. Martin Timmerman, from NYU. He'd just gotten back from a dig in the Amazon basin and wanted her to take a look at some remains. His initial carbon dating put the skeletons at about 4500 years old, among the oldest found in the region. She typed out a quick reply, telling him to send things along to the Jeffersonian and that she'd get to them as quickly as possible.

Her coffee had gotten cold, but she slugged the last of it down before she shut off her computer and pulled out her cell phone. She was feeling frustrated and she knew exactly what she needed. "Hello, Peter? Any interest in meeting up for dinner?"

* * *

Tempe's day was not going well. She'd already decided she was going straight to the shooting range after work, and if she had the opportunity, she was going to blow up a picture of the asshole from the FBI for target practice. This was just too much.

"Dr. Goodman, I can't work like this. If they want my input, they need to afford me at least a modicum of respect."

The older man sighed and looked up from his paperwork, glancing between Tempe and the FBI agent standing next to her with his arms folded. Most of the agents the FBI foisted off on her were arrogant, but this many really gave the word new meaning. He even wore a belt buckle that said "cocky" with a picture of a rooster on it. Plus he was an idiot.

"Dr. Brennan, the FBI has asked for your expertise. As a staff member of a government institution, it is part of your job description to consult on cases when requested."

The man standing next to her snorted. "I am standing right here, you know."

Tempe ignored him. "They're not even allowing me access to the remains." Goodman arched an eyebrow at her and waved to explain further. "I've only been given the autopsy x-rays. They won't allow our lab any physical evidence to examine, and frankly I don't trust the lab reports from the FBI forensics lab."

Goodman sighed, making Tempe struggle to not roll her eyes. "Dr. Brennan, please. Just examine the x-rays and give the man a report. If he wants anything further, he can give you more to work with." She nodded curtly. It was no good trying to get Goodman to get her out of working with the FBI. He was the one who had delivered her into their clutches in the first place. "Agent Booth, I have to say I understand Dr. Brennan's reluctance in this case. She isn't a magician and is much more likely to give you accurate information if you give her the physical remains."

The agent shifted slightly and shrugged. "Look, she can have the body when my techs are done with it. I appreciate the Jeffersonian's help here, but you guys are consulting with the FBI on this case, you're not the lead investigators. I need to give my people a chance to go through the evidence first before handing it off to a load of ivory tower scientists who don't know how criminal forensics works."

She frowned at the expression. She'd certainly heard of ivory tower academics and knew what it meant, but she couldn't see how the idea of academic shut-ins locked away from the real world could apply to her team, who were well trained in all the latest forensic techniques. "I don't know what that means." She could see the man roll his eyes as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I'll get you your report. Dr. Goodman." She nodded to her boss and turned on her heel and marched out of his office.

A few seconds later, as she was walking towards the stairs to head back to her lab, she felt an arm grab her wrist and reacted instinctually. She knew Krav Maga fairly well, but it was the newest of the three martial arts she trained in and she instinctually fell back on the one she'd learned first and knew best, judo. She rocked her hip back into her attacker, grabbed the hand that held her wrist and flipped the man over her thigh. He grunted as he landed on his back, the air rushing out of his lungs. She felt guilty for a second, as agent Booth stared wide-eyed up at her, but then she shook herself and dropped her defensive stance. She reached out a hand to help him up, and every shred of guilt she felt evaporated when he just glared at her before heaving himself to his feet. "Geez, lady, overreact much?"

She frowned slightly. "I don't like to be touched." She especially didn't like being grabbed. It brought back far too many memories. She smoothed out her face. "I'm sorry. If you need to get my attention, use your voice, not your hands."

He nodded and fell into step beside her when she continued towards the stairs, following her back to her lab. "So, did you even get to look at my x-rays before you went running to your boss to complain?"

She glared at him through the corner of her eye. "Of course I looked at them. I would know more if I had an actual body to examine." She knew he was fishing for her preliminary findings, but she refused to give in to his prodding unless he asked directly.

"Well, what do you know?"

She swiped her id card, annoyed when he followed her up the stairs to the forensic platform. Zack and Hodgins were both bent over their tasks, neither bothering to look up. Hodgins probably didn't even hear them, since he had headphones in. She pulled them out of his ears as she passed. "Dr. Hodgins, you know how I feel about music on the forensics platform. Zack, progress please." She heard the tell-tale snap of the rubber band on Dr. Hodgins' wrist and ignored it.

Her assistant hopped up and met her at one of the high tables, which had a skeleton laid out upon it. "Hello Dr. Brennan. What did Dr. Goodman say?"

She sighed. "We have to work with the FBI. Report please."

He gestured to the bones in front of him. "I got the crispy critter cleaned and laid out. My preliminary examination implies cause of death to be head trauma, some kind of penetrating blow."

She saw Booth frown. "What the heck is a crispy critter?"

Brennan frowned at Zack. "It is an incredibly disrespectful term for the remains of someone who has been through a fire. Mr. Addy knows that no one in my lab uses terms like that. The only people who use those terms are med students who have no respect for human remains." Zack ducked his head, slightly embarrassed at being rebuked by Tempe. Booth still looked slightly confused. The man was an idiot. "The Arlington PD had a burned body turned up. Initially they believed it to be a suicide, but their medical examiner determined that the man had been dead when he was set on fire. Their investigation hit a dead horse, so they called us."

Now he was frowning at her, a wrinkle forming between his eyebrows. "Wait, do mean hit a dead end?"

She shrugged. She hated colloquialisms. She looked at Hodgins, who was unsuccessfully trying to hide a grin. "What's the dead horse one?"

"Beat a dead horse. Try to do something impossible, or with no expectation of the desired result." Maybe she should watch more TV. Peter had insisted on bringing over his spare, since they spent so much more time in her apartment. It made sense that way, since she lived alone and he lived with another associate professor. Plus her place was nicer. She broke away from her thoughts when Hodgins continued speaking. "I finished particulate analysis. There was tungsten carbide in the head wound, probably from some kind of machine tool. I'm checking industrial registers to see if I can get a more exact match."

"Good work Jack. Let me know what you find out. Zack, let's take a look at the head wound." She and her student leaned in close to the cranium on the table, both snapping on gloves. "Do you see the marks on C2?" She pointed to the second cervical vertebra. Zack nodded, and even Booth leaned in to look at what she was pointing out. "It looks almost like a hesitation strike, before the main blow. Tell me about hesitation strikes."

Zack replied promptly. "Usually a term that applies to flesh wounds, hesitation strikes are seen in suicides or suicide attempts. The wounds usually follow a downward direction, since this follows the natural sweep of the arm. They can also be seen in attacks, or in wounds inflicted post mortem. When seen in post mortem wounds, it is usually an indication of hesitation before dismemberment, indicating that the attacker may have known the victim."

A textbook response, practically read from the page. She pushed him to analyze the words coming out of his mouth. "And what does that say about the victim in this case?"

"His attacker knew him, was going to dismember him but couldn't, so he set him on fire?" Zack made the statement into a question.

She nodded slightly. "It's a reasonable hypothesis. Now, let's look at the head wound." She picked up the skull and slowly rotated it in her fingers. "This looks like it was made by a drill. I want to work with Angela and see if you can work on recreating a possible drill bit." She replaced the scull on the table, slapping away Booth's hand when he reached out to touch it. "Now, Zack, did you look at those x-rays?"

He nodded, moving away to turn on the light box. He flicked it on and she stood next to him, looking over the x-rays yet again. She took up the explanation, for Booth's benefit. "The victim was male, probably between twenty-five and thirty. He was approximately 180 centimeters tall and was killed by having his neck severed, from above. Zack, what does that lead us to believe?"

"The attacker was taller than the victim, by at least ten centimeters." She nodded.

Booth chose that moment to interrupt. "Wait, what's that in American?"

She rolled her eyes slightly. The majority of the world, and all of the scientific community, used the metric system. The American public needed to start understanding it or be outstripped by their more enlightened cousins.

"180 centimeters is about 5'10. 190 centimeters is about 6'1. I would put a maximum height of the assailant at 6'3, judging by the angle of the blow. He was also likely heavier than the victim, probably about 220 to 230 pounds in 'American'." Put in the air-quotes and rolled her eyes for good measure. "Zack, what are your thoughts on occupational markers."

Her assistant took a few moments to study the x-rays. "This would be easier if we had physical remains to examine." She glared at the FBI agent. I can see the beginnings of osteoarthritis in the spine, knees and elbows, indicating someone who did frequent manual labor." He fell silent, then shook his head. "I'm sorry Dr. Brennan, without a physical skeleton, I'm not comfortable making any other observations."

She glared at the FBI agent again. "This, Agent Booth, is why we need the physical remains. X-rays are very limiting." She pointed to the knee joints. "Now Zack, you noticed the beginnings of osteoarthritis here. Now look at the shins. Do you see the stress fractures?" Zack nodded, seemingly irritated with his failure to observe something that he had missed. "There's a pattern of healing and injury. That is something typical of long distance runners, especially," she pointed at the heels, which were slightly more worn than would have been expected in someone in their mid-twenties, "someone who favors a heel-strike. You wouldn't see this injury if a person had good form and was running with a mid-foot strike, which allows the natural arch of the foot to act as a shock absorber for the knees and shins." Zack nodded, closely studying the x-rays. "So, Agent Booth, you're looking for a person, likely male, between 6'1 and 6'3 and 200 to 230 pounds who killed a twenty-five to thirty year old man, about 5'10 and 190 pounds, who was most likely a long distance runner. Because of the markers in the shoulders and spice, I would also say he was a kayaker, and a frequent one. His job probably had him at a desk." She pointed to the wearing of the lower spine. "I'll be sure to include all of this in my report."

With that she turned back to the skeleton that Arlington PD had asked her to examine and began her meticulous study of the bones. A hand darted into her vision and touched one of the tibia, making her reach out and smack it away. "Don't touch my bones!"

She glared up at Agent Booth, who shrugged but didn't apologize. "Geez you sure are touchy about bones."

She gritted her teeth. "I have a name, Agent Booth, and I would appreciate it if you would use it. I am Dr. Temperance Brennan."

She turned her back on him again, though she caught him rolling his eyes. "Sure, Dr. Brennan. I'll expect your report before five." She didn't answer or offer to escort him out. She just went back to unwrapping the mysteries of the bones that had made up a man, laying on the table before her.

* * *

**A/N:** Please review! I live on the things!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Putting up the second chapter on the heels of the first! Hope you're liking it. Let me know what you think of my interpretations.

* * *

Temperance looked across the table at Peter and smiled into her wine. She could still faintly smell the gunpowder on her fingers, even though she'd washed them thoroughly. She loved going to the shooting range. It did a lot for helping her work through aggression, and she was proud of how good a shot she was.

"I'm going to be at Tevatron running data for a month."

She took a sip of her wine. "What energy ranges are you investigating?" She and Peter got along best when they weren't in constant contact. She certainly couldn't see herself with him in the long term, but she didn't want to lose him as a lover at the moment, and his work was interesting. He was intelligent, but not pushy, and he didn't find her career morbid or spend too much time prying into her personal life, all traits she looked for in a boyfriend.

"Still trying to get a better mass measurement for the top quark. I'm going to have a lot of data analysis to do once I get back. I still wish I was in pure research right now. Balancing a teaching schedule is difficult."

She nodded slightly. "I know what you mean. I've picked up two classes at American this semester, plus all the law enforcement work we've picked up in the last couple of years. I miss focusing solely on ancient remains. Oh, that reminds me. I'm getting some ancient remains from the Amazon in next week. They might be the oldest in the region."

Peter gave her a lopsided grin. "Well, that should be fun. How was your day, anyway? What pissed you off enough that you needed to spend two hours at the gun range?"

Their food arrived, giving her a minute to formulate a response. After they'd both had a few bites and tasted each other's meals, she replied. "The FBI sent over another arrogant agent. Of course, Dr. Goodman was no help. The FBI ass wouldn't even let me have the body."

Peter snorted. "How are you supposed to do your work if they won't let you even see the bones?"

She shrugged. "They certainly won't get my best if they're not going to give me anything to work with. There's a chance I'll get the body eventually, but who knows what kind of condition it will be in. I hate the sloppiness of the FBI techs. They're terrible at flesh removal. I'm going to have to spend hours sorting out which marks are scalpel strikes from them stripping the bones and what was there before they started. That's if I ever get a body to look at."

She drained her wine and Peter topped her glass. "Hey," he said, nonchalantly. "I was thinking, since I'm going to be in Illinois, I might go visit my parents."

Temperance frowned at him slightly, then nodded. "I suppose it's been a while since you've seen them." He'd gone home at Easter, she'd gone on a dig in Africa. That was four months past. They'd only had a few dates at that point, so the question of them spending the holidays together hadn't come up. "Doesn't your sister start college this fall?"

He nodded. "Yeah, Charlotte's going to NYU, so I want to get to see her before she moves out. I was wondering if you wanted to come too. I know she'd love to meet you, and so would my parents."

She immediately shook her head. "I'm really swamped at work right now, Pete. It's not a good time."

He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his thick hair. "You're always swamped, and it won't be a good time unless you make an effort to make it a good time. You must still have some friends from growing up. My parents are only an hour downstate from Chicago. It could be fun. Or we could go up to Northwestern, see your old professors."

She sighed and sipped her wine. "You know I don't really do the family thing, Pete. Plus I lost track of any friends I had when I went into the foster system." She liked Pete, but she certainly wasn't ready to do something that would force them to be viewed as an established couple. Meeting his family would certainly do that.

Pete frowned. "How did you get out of the system, anyway? You never talk about it."

The familiar lie rolled off her tongue. "My grandfather got me out, when I was sixteen." It had been a dream she'd held for years, really. That some long lost relative would find her and save her from the hell of most of her foster families. By now the lie was so practiced it almost felt like truth. The real truth was, she'd aged out of the system. She'd been lucky enough to receive a full scholarship to Northwestern, and a stipend for her living expenses. She'd even wound up staying on for her doctorate there. It just sounded so pathetic, admitting that no one in the world wanted her. She certainly didn't want to go to Northwestern with Peter, since Michael was still there. She did her best to never introduce past and present lovers. "Anyway, I'm going to be working on those remains from the Amazon, I've got a forensics case to put together for the Arlington PD, whatever ridiculous work the FBI dredges up, plus I need to start putting together a huge exhibit at the Museum. They're doing this whole 'Out of Africa' thing. I'm going to be living in the lab."

He sighed. "Fine, Bren. I'll send my mother your regrets. I'm leaving on Sunday night."

She tried not to sigh in relief. "Angela wants to go out tomorrow night, with whoever she's seeing this week. Are you interested?"

He nodded. "Why not? She always find the most ridiculous clubs." They turned back to their meals, finding solace in simple conversation and ignoring the issues hanging over them.

* * *

Temperance looked over her coffee mug at her friend, who was staring at her. "What, Ange?"

"What's up with you, sweetie? You look like you're planning to murder your coffee, and I know it didn't do anything to you."

She hated how easily Angela could see through her. They'd known each other for years, and Angela was probably the only other person in the world to know her whole story. They'd met in Chicago, when Temperance had been in her last year as an undergrad and Angela started at the Art Institute of Chicago, and they'd met at an exhibit. Eventually, Angela had followed Brennan to DC and the Jeffersonian. She'd needed a job and Brennan had been in a position to offer her one.

Brennan sighed and gritted her teeth. Angela never gave up when she wanted to know something. "Pete asked me to meet his parents."

Angela rolled her eyes. "I'm guessing you said no." She just nodded. "Honey, if you refuse to let anyone get past the gates, you're never going to find the one."

She snorted. "Angela, the statistical likely-hood of one person being the perfect person for you is miniscule. Even if such a person did exist, the probability of finding that one person is so slim as to be completely laughable. Anyway, you don't stay with anyone long enough to learn middle names, let alone meet parents, so don't criticize me for not being able to let people in."

Angela threw a paperclip at her, which she just managed to dodge. "Not cool, Bren. Anyway, maybe I'm just looking extra hard for that one perfect guy. And maybe there isn't one person for each of us, but there are people out there that can make you happy, people we can be happy with."

"I'm happy with Peter."

Now Angela snorted. "Please, Bren. You like him because he's dependable for a decent round in the sack and he doesn't try to get too far into your personal life, past hanging out with your friends, anyway. Now he's stepped over the 'Temperance boundary' and you're looking for something to beat into submission. What about just going with it for a bit?"

"Look, Ange, I know you believe in 'happily ever after' and everything, but even if there is such a thing, Peter isn't it for me. We're having fun, but it really isn't some huge love." She sipped her coffee. "But he's fun, and I like him, and for now, I'm going with that."

Both women turned around at the sound of Zach's voice. "Dr. Brennan, that FBI agent is back."

She sighed. Just what she needed. "Does he have a body?"

Her assistant shook his head. "He's got a box of evidence though. Hodgins is going through it."

"Zach, without a body, I can't do anything else. Let Hodgins go through the particulate evidence. I have other things to do and I'm trying to enjoy my coffee. Did you get the body back to Arlington PD?"

"Yes Dr. Brennan. They got the full report. The detective said they might need you to testify if they make an arrest."

She nodded. That was one of the many things she hated about working with law enforcement. It was like a wall separated her from the actual investigation, and she knew she could do more if they just let her in! "Just tell him he's got everything I can give him, Zach."

Of course, that didn't work. Two minutes later, with Angela extolling the virtues of the club she would be taking Temperance and Peter, and possibly Hodgins, to, the FBI agent stormed up the stairs, Zack hot on his heels. "Please," Zack tried, "Dr. Brennan says she doesn't have anything for you. She's having her coffee!"

Angela's eyebrows went up when she saw the agent. _What was his name again?_ Brennan would admit the man was attractive, with symmetrical features and broad shoulders, but he was such an imbecile. She glared at him. "Angela, this is Agent…" She fumbled for his name. She knew it started with a 'b', and that it was a real word. "Agent Boots. This is Angela Montenegro, our forensic artist."

From his snort, she knew she'd gotten his name wrong. He extended a hand to Angela and grinned at the artist. "It's Booth. What's a forensic artist?"

Angela smirked. "Don't worry, studly, I get that question all the time. I do facial reconstructions, basically building a face for sculls. I also do a lot of modeling for exhibits and things like that."

"Angela is excellent at facial reconstruction. It's a very subjective art, but she manages a surprising amount of accuracy. Of course, I provide the underlying facial architecture based on age, race and weight, which are all statistical averages, but Angela has excellent intuition in terms of skin tone and coloration." She saw the blank look the agent was giving her and she trailed off.

Booth looked to Angela. "What the hell did she just say?"

Angela, of course, managed to smile and laugh, while Brennan wanted an excuse to knock him down again. "She said I'm good at my job. Did you need something, Agent Booth?"

The agent sighed. "Yeah. I need to borrow the bone lady." Angela's eyebrows tried to climb into her hairline, and Brennan clenched her teeth. "The FBI forensics techs want to talk to her about her report."

"I think you'll find, Agent Booth," Brennan seethed, "that I am, in fact, right here. I also have a name. I am not the 'bone lady', I'm Dr. Temperance Brennan, as I'm sure you are aware. If your technicians want to speak with me, they can pick up the phone or send me an email."

Booth whipped around to face her. "Brian said he emailed you this morning. He hadn't heard back, and I needed to drop off some evidence, so I said I'd pick you up. Let's go."

She put down her coffee mug with a bang. "This is not the main focus of my work. I will check my email again and send him a response. Please tell him next time to pick up the phone if he doesn't receive a response as promptly as he'd like. I can't simply drop everything for a field trip to FBI land." Her cell phone rang and she pulled it out of her pocket, standing and moving a few feet away before answering.

"Hello, Peter. Is everything alright?"

"_Hey Tempe. You sound upset._"

She sighed. "Just work stuff. Are you meeting us at the lab tonight?"

"_Yeah, Jack was all excited about that moonshine he's been making in one of the back labs. He even sent me an email letting me know it's going to be unveiled tonight._"

That made Brennan laugh. This was the kind of thing she liked about Peter. He had an easy way with people and he made an effort to know the people involved in her life, but he didn't try to pry into her past. "Yeah, he's been going on about it all week. Your last lecture is at 3:30, yes?"

"_I've got office hours until 5:00, since I'm going to be out of town for a month. Summer term isn't so bad, and one of the grad students is picking up my lectures, but I'm still going to be assigning work and setting out the material. I should be by around 5:30 or 6:00. Do you want to try to grab lunch?_"

She glanced at Booth. He didn't seem to be leaving, even though she'd told him she wasn't going with him. "I'm completely rained in here, Pete. Will you pick up dinner on the way over? If we drink on an empty stomach, we'll never make it to the club with Angela and you know I'll hear about it all weekend."

"_It's snowed under, Tempe, but sure thing. What do you want me to pick up?_"

Brennan glanced at Angela. "Pete's bringing dinner. What should we get?"

Angela shrugged. "Thai always works. Tell him to get a bunch of stuff, we'll give him cash when he gets here."

"Is Thai okay?" Pete made an affirmative noise. "It's you, me, Angela, Jack and maybe Zack. We'll give you cash when you get here. Get a bit extra in case anyone else shows up, I'll cover it. See you later, Pete." She hung up after he said good bye and looked around to find the other three people looking at her. "What?"

Zack spoke first. "I need to get back to work." He quickly disappeared down the stairs.

Angela laughed and rolled her eyes. "It's just funny, Bren. You flip a switch when you're talking to Pete. You go from professional to personal in a microsecond. It's not a bad thing."

She shrugged, feeling defensive. "I like to keep my private life separate from my working life, at least during business hours. I like to compartmentalize. It keeps things organized. Now, Agent Booth, if we're done here..?" She picked up her coffee cup and made to leave.

"Grab your coat, Dr. Brennan. We're going to the Hoover."

She turned around to face the man. "I thought I made myself perfectly clear, Agent Booth. I have work to do here, and I will respond to your forensic techs via email."

He folded his arms and frowned at her. "Have you read the email yet?"

"Seeing as I've been in your presence since you informed me of the email, I'm sure you're well aware that I haven't."

She turned to go again, but froze when he spoke. "They want you to have a look at the body."

She turned back around slowly, wishing she could have said no. "Fine." The word was practically dragged out of her lips. "I'll get my stuff."

* * *

**A/N:** So, what do you think of Peter? I personally like him, even knowing things won't work out between them, and from looking at how invested in Bren's personal life everyone in the lab is first season, it seems likely that they all hung out at least a few times. I also love the moment in the pilot when they're drinking Hodgins's home-made alcohol, and I could so see him making a big deal out of it the first time he did it. I also think it's really interesting to see how different Brennan is when she's in work mode versus in girlfriend mode, so I wanted to highlight that. Reviews are the crack for which I whore out my writing!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Hope you like this one!

* * *

She sat in the passenger seat of the SUV, completely and utterly irritated. "You do understand that it is ridiculous to drive to your office. It's a five minute walk, and we're going to spend fifteen minutes sitting in traffic at this time of the day."

She noticed the glare he shot her, but ignored it, continuing to stare straight ahead. "Well, unlike you, I need to dress professionally for my work." She glanced down at her flowing skirt and the Grecian style sandals she wore, ran her fingers over the hem of her cotton tank top while her other hand clutched her light, short-sleeved cardigan and her purse. "It's August in DC, and about a million degrees. I'm in a suit. I'm not spending any more time than physically necessary out of air conditioning."

She did agree that the heat and humidity would be intense, even with a summer weight suit. She never understood the necessity of clothing that completely ignored the reality of the climate they lived in. The heat and humidity of DC in the summer could be quite oppressive. Still, this was a ridiculous waste of time. "I still don't understand why your techs didn't just send me the body."

He chuckled, though she really didn't see what was funny. "You're complaining about a fifteen minute drive wasting fuel and you want them to pack up and transport a body? You've got serious priority issues, bone lady."

She grimaced. "I have a name. Dr. Temperance Brennan. Transporting the body makes some kind of sense, as I've got state of the art equipment at my lab. Us driving to your office, and thereby making the trip take three times as long as it does by foot, makes no sense. Though I understand your concern about the heat."

He grumbled slightly but didn't say anything for a few minutes. Finally he sighed, looking out at the traffic. "So how long have you been working at the Jeffersonian?"

She glanced up at the man, studying him. She hated talking about her life, but figured the question was innocuous enough. "I've been there since 1998." It was hard to believe it had been nearly six years already. "When I started there, we were mostly doing authentications of archeological digs and organizing exhibits and lectures at the Museum. I did a lot of work identifying victims of the Rwandan genocide while I was working on my doctorate, so we began getting requests in that area once I started here. Of course, the last couple years I've been occasionally working with law enforcement."

Booth nodded, and she was glad he seemed happy to keep the focus professional. "Did you send that burn victim back to the local LEOs?" He caught the frown she gave him and explained. "Local law enforcement officers. The Arlington PD."

"Oh, yes. I gave them a full profile of the victim, and a few details of the likely murderer, but I don't know what will come of it. Hodgins will be sending them a detailed particulate report when he completes it. I'll find out if they want me to testify at trial, if it comes to that." She unclenched her fist. "So how long have you been an FBI agent?"

"I'm a Special Agent, actually. I got promoted three months ago, but I was an agent for three years. I started after I got out of the army. So, the Rwandan genocide, huh? That must have been intense."

The memories flooded back, uncovering mass graves, guarded by soldiers who had most likely been doing the killing. She'd been there for months, sifting through remains, trying to give names to the dead. For so many it had been impossible. That had probably been one of the worst things she'd witnessed, though she'd seen many instances of genocide since then. The scale of the Rwandan tragedy simply made it unique. She pushed the memories away. "It certainly wasn't a vacation."

They finally arrived at the Hoover building, and she hopped out as soon as he parked, striding quickly towards the main entrance. Booth caught up quickly, looking annoyed. She ignored him. Of course, once she got inside, she couldn't ignore him anymore. She needed someone to sign her in as a visitor, since she only had an id that identified her as a "consultant", with no unaccompanied access past the public areas.

She wanted to wipe the self-satisfied smirk off his face, but let him sign her in. It wasn't like she had a choice. Of course she frowned at him when he accompanied her down to the FBI forensics lab. She hated this lab, the way it was hidden away in the basement as if the work they did wasn't even worth seeing sunlight. She paused at the door and raised her hand to knock, when he grabbed her wrist and made to brush past her.

In an instant, she had his arm wrenched behind him and pressed him up against the wall. He grunted slightly and she let him go, feeling heat in her cheeks as she blushed. "I'm sorry. Please don't grab me. I don't do well with people invading my personal space."

"Geez, bone lady, you need to calm down. How often do you have people jumping you?" He massaged his wrist, scowling at her."

"I'm sure it's in my file." If Hodgins could be believed, the government had files on all of them, beyond the basic investigation that had been conducted to allow them security clearance when they'd first started taking on CIA cases. She certainly wasn't going to tell him about the time she'd spent three days locked in the darkness, wondering if she was going to be raped, or killed or raped and then killed. It had felt like weeks. Even nearly two years later, she was still jumpy. It was going to be a while before she felt comfortable going back to El Salvador, and she frequently found herself wishing she'd gone to Italy with Angela. Without another word, she brushed past him and into the lab.

She'd met several of the techs before, but she didn't bother saying hello. She knew they didn't like her, and since she didn't like their work, she didn't particularly make an effort to get them to change their opinions. Instead, she walked straight to one of the bodies laid out on the table. The flesh had been partially excised, though the remaining flesh was badly decomposed. She snagged a pair of gloves from a nearby box and snapped them on before she examined the lower extremities.

"You should have used a different method for flesh removal if you scalpel work is so sloppy." The main tech, Brian, she thought, came up next to her. He knew her well enough to give her some space. She pointed to three different marks. "These are scalpel strikes. You need to be more careful." She looked at the arms, still carrying the vestiges of decomposing flesh. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Booth approach, with the obvious sheen of Vicks under his nose. She probably should have thought to grab some for herself, but by this point she was mostly inured to the smell of decaying flesh. Carefully she pulled back some of the flesh from the palm. "Look here. These are defensive wounds. You need to be especially careful when you're removing the flesh from the hands or these are going to be obscured. If you'd like, we can take care of it in my lab. Our equipment and techniques are much more sophisticated than yours." She began examining the severed cervical spine, shifting the scull so she could get a better look at the injury. "You know, I do a lecture series at American University on flesh removal techniques. I'm sure I could arrange for you to audit the course, if you're interested."

By the way Brian was standing, her offer offended him. She could understand that, even if he wasn't right. She shouldn't have been so blunt about calling his skills into question, but the lack of care they'd taken with the bones was frankly shocking. Her lecture series always filled quickly, so she would actually be doing the man a favor, even if he didn't see it that way. His voice was angry when he spoke and she forced herself to suppress a sigh. She wasn't good with people. "I do alright on my own. I don't particularly care about your opinion on flesh removal techniques. I needed you to explain your assessment that the attacker was taller than the victim."

This was what she'd been dragged to the Hoover for? This could have discussed this over the phone. "Well, look at the angle of the cut. It's slight, but greater than would be accounted for by the simple downward sweep of an attacker of equal height. The height difference shouldn't be more than ten centimeters, which is too small to account for the attacker being raised up on a step. Also, the attack cut deep into the bone, slicing through the carotid artery and the windpipe and biting into the spine. To deliver this blow the attacker would have been very strong, and right handed. The strength required makes the attacker likely male, also supporting the theory that the attacker was physically taller, rather than perhaps wearing high heels. If you have no other questions, I have work to get back to."

She moved the skull back to its original position and stripped off her gloves. She turned to go but paused when Brian told her to wait. She gestured for him to explain. "You got the occupational markers spot on. We were able to match the victim to an IT guy from Alexandria who runs marathons and whitewater kayaks. My supervisor was impressed and wanted to see if you could get more out of the bones themselves."

She turned back to the autopsy table. "Are you sending the remains to the Jeffersonian?"

Brian threw up his hands in anger. "No way! This is my body. I'm calling you in as a consultant. That's it! This is an FBI case, and we're taking the lead on forensics."

She sighed and picked up her purse from where she'd dropped it on the floor. "Let me know when you're done butchering the flesh removal then." Without another word, she stormed out of the subterranean lab.

* * *

She was always happy working with ancient remains. She could look at them and see the lives the people led without the further complications of thinking of the family left behind by the death. Thousands, and in the cases of some hominid remains even millions, of years separated her from the pain of loss suffered by whoever was left behind. She could be fascinated by the years spent walking, or the marks left on the spine from working the land. She could see into the lives of the ancestors of the human race, see what made us the species we are today, and it was always fascinating.

So she was even more annoyed that usual when that irritating voice rang out through her lab. "Hey, bone lady!" She refused to look up from the skeleton she examined, one of four sent to her by Dr. Timmerman at NYU. She didn't want to be disturbed by some idiotic FBI agent who refused to call her by her name. "Bone lady! Bones! Hey, I'm talking to you, Bones!"

If she'd had anything besides the bones of one of the oldest humans to be found in the Amazon basin close to hand, she would have thrown it at him. "Don't call me Bones!" It was a ridiculous nickname and every anthropologist who specialized in forensics had heard it at least once, and she despised it.

"At least you're not pretending I don't exist anymore. Brian wants you back in the lab and he says you're not taking his calls." Hodgins was walking up to the forensic platform. He glanced sideways at the agent, but swiped in his identity card and Booth followed close on his heels. "Come on, chop, chop! Put down the… whatever the heck that is and let's go. I need leads to chase down."

She glanced at her watch. It was 5:35. Normally she wouldn't have a problem working outside of work hours, but she had plans and this guy pissed her off. "I sent him an email and said that I would come by first thing Monday morning. I believe my assistant, Mr. Addy, told him the same thing when he called here. Hodgins, do have an initial report on the soil samples for NYU?"

Hodgins looked slightly uncomfortable standing between Brennan and the agent, but he flipped through a few pages. "I'm working up a silt profile from the site. So far it seems consistent with the region. Zack wanted me to tell you he's doing the carbon dating now and will have the results written up by Monday morning. Also," he glanced to the agent, "the, uh, project I've been running on the back burner is ready. Pete said he was planning on checking it out."

She nodded. "Thanks, Jack. I was just getting my initial analysis out of the way before wrapping things up for the evening."

Booth sidled his way close to the main autopsy table. He leaned over the skeleton and reached out to poke it, which made her extend a hand to smack him away. "Don't touch my bones. Look, why are you still here? I told you I won't have time to look at your body until Monday."

Booth snatched his hand back, rubbing the place her fingers had connected with. "Didn't your mother teach you not to hit?" Brennan flinched, and by the way he frowned, he noticed, but she didn't reply. Her family was none of his business. "Anyway, you're making time for this guy, so you've got time for my body."

"No Agent Booth, I really don't." She saw Pete walk into the lab, carrying a box full of takeout. "Pete," she waved to him and walked over to the stairs to swipe him onto the platform. Technically he shouldn't bring food up here, but everything was staying in the large cardboard box, so she didn't worry about it. She kissed both his cheeks before taking the box and popping it on a desk. "I'm almost done here. Your day went well?"

He nodded slightly. "Got everything wrapped up that I needed to." He looked at the other people on the platform. "Hey Jack. I got you Pad Kee Mao."

Hodgins smiled. "Excellent, man, thanks. An appropriate choice for the evening." It took Brennan a moment to remember that Pad Kee Mao meant 'drunken noodles'.

She made herself rotate back towards the other two men. She didn't like Agent Booth, but Pete always felt unappreciated when she failed to introduce him. "Pete, this is Agent Booth, from the FBI. Agent Booth, this is my boyfriend Peter St. James." Peter had an arm draped around her shoulder when he reached out to offer his hand to Booth. She hated that kind of alpha male posturing, the visible demonstration that she belonged to him. She knew it was instinctual and at least mostly subconscious but it still irked her.

Pete was making an effort to be polite. "Nice to meet you, Agent Booth. Tempe was telling me you're expecting her to magic results out of x-rays." Alright, maybe he wasn't making an effort to be polite. At least both of them laughed. "Are you coming out tonight?"

Brennan forced her face to stillness when Booth looked at her, but she desperately hoped he wouldn't accept the invitation. The man was irritating her enough during office hours. She didn't need to see him after work as well. "Nah, maybe some other time." She made herself not sigh in relief.

Of course, the next thing Pete said made any chance of relief much less likely. "Do you want to stay for some food? I've got way more Thai food than we can possibly eat." Brennan wondered if she could discretely elbow Pete in the ribs. She decided against it; she never managed to be quite subtle enough.

Booth looked at her, as if for permission, which made her feel slightly guilty. Maybe she should make an effort with these FBI people if Dr. Goodman was going to keep forcing her to work with them. "I'm sure there's more than enough food, Agent Booth. Plus, Hodgins is going to unveil his homebrew."

The agent glanced at the entomologist, seemingly surprised. "Well, if you guys don't mind, I could eat. I'm going out with some friends later, but not for a few hours."

Brennan disentangled herself from Pete and moved back to the autopsy table. "Well, you guys go set the food up and find Angela. Zack is probably still in one of the back labs doing the carbon dating. I need to get this put away for the weekend." Her hands ran over the bones slowly. If she'd known these skeletons would arrive so quickly, or she probably wouldn't have agreed to go out tonight. She already knew she'd be back in the lab in the morning.

Apparently, Pete recognized the look in her eyes. "Tempe, if you're not upstairs in half an hour, I'm eating all the Mi Krop."

She frowned at him. He knew it was her favorite. "Fine, I'll be there in a bit." With reluctance she slowly started putting the bones back into their storage case.

* * *

**A/N:** Something that really bugged me about the 100th episode was that Brennan had just met Angela. In "The Woman in the Garden", Brennan says she had been in El Salvador three years before, identifying victims of death squads. Later she asks Angela if she remembers Brennan going on the trip to El Salvador, and Angela says, "Yeah, I remember. I tried to get you to go to Italy with me." So, they knew each other at least two years before the 100th episode. Grrrrr! Also, I used the last name Pete is given on IMDB.


End file.
